


Did You Ever Wonder?

by dev_chieftain



Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: Aveline Vallen - Freeform, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev_chieftain/pseuds/dev_chieftain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For prompt on the DAkinkmeme:</p><p>Fem!Hawke loves Aveline, but despite this, helps her with her clumsy attempts to woo Donnic, hoping that somewhere along the way, Aveline may discover how much she cares for her. When all is said and done, Aveline and Donnic have their talk, and so do Hawke/Aveline. It's then that Aveline realizes Hawke's feelings for her.</p><p>What happens after then -- whether it's just a demure kiss, a full-fledged makeout session, or actual sex -- is up to the writer, but this should be a one-time affair. Aveline still ends with Donnic, but Hawke gets some closure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did You Ever Wonder?

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently it's high time I start writing more femmeslash. Expect lots of awkward kisses. I know them well.

Today, Hawke has missed her chance, and she knows it.

And she's heartbroken, but it's not the first time. And Bethany has already seen her face, and made her promise they'll spend the evening together and Bethany will invite Varric even and there can be cards and stories and juggling and magic tricks, everything that cheers her most wonderful sister up.

Tonight will be terrible, because she'll have to pretend she's all right for people who know she's unhappy.

Just now, all she has to do is check in on the Captain of the Guard. All she has to do is say, good luck. All she has to do is say, glad it worked out, even though she absolutely doesn't mean it, and Aveline has been roasting her heart on a spit this whole time, with all this Guardsman Donnic business.

With a deep breath to steady herself, Hawke crosses the hall, steps down into the barracks, and pauses just outside Aveline's door. She can hear murmuring inside; Aveline and a man's voice, baritone-- probably Donnic; she nearly turns to leave, only to find that Donnic is just coming in from his morning patrol. Seeing her, he brightens, offering her a hand to shake (she numbly accepts, finds a small smile).

"Serah Hawke! Good to see you. I ah-- wanted to apologize for misunderstanding, before. What you did--" he chuckles awkwardly. "I really do appreciate it. I'm as bad as Aveline at saying what I mean."

"I can relate," she says glibly, all charm and poise. There can be no heartbreak, and it's none of her business to step on Donnic _or_ Aveline's toes.

The door opens, and Varric breezes out, a nervous messenger in tow. Some gawkish boy, probably grabbed from Lowtown under the pretense of Varric needing an assistant. Like all the others, he'll soon find himself gainfully employed somewhere safe, and Varric will be friends with yet another Person Rising To Power.

In about twenty years, he'll own Kirkwall. That'll be a sight. Hawke wonders wryly, as she waggles her fingers after them in a wave, whether there will still be a place for her in Varric's stories by then. Will he ever admit that he's his own hero?

She steps back, hardly about to intrude if Donnic has guard business, but he sidles past her, proceeding on into the barracks proper to his room without a second glance. Well, then. No excuses left, door open, and time wasting, Hawke approaches tentatively, knocking once on the open door to announce her presence.

"Is that you, Hawke?" Aveline asks, glancing up with a warm smile that could melt Hawke and, she's quite sure, all of her shiny armor down into a tiny smoldering puddle. "Come on in."

She does, closing the door behind her wordlessly, opening her mouth to say something that never even manifests as a thought. Shuts her mouth, swallows. Hard.

"You know, I really wanted to thank you for what you did," Aveline begins, still smiling. Maker, she's radiant. Hawke has half fantasized she's one of those mythical battle maiden spirits that some folks say roam the Orlesian wilds, keeping natural order in balance since the day they met.

And she has that slight crooked tooth, just the one, and she has that rich farmgirl smell that Hawke so loves about Ferelden girls. Being one herself, she appreciates the hips and thighs and breasts and _full lips_ that generally come with that smell.

Aveline has not noticed that Hawke is staring, in her usual way, and is going on. "I don't think I'd have ever got my foot out of my mouth long enough to make it clear what I wanted without you and your rabble rousers about to make it through."

"Is that what Varric was here for?" Hawke asks with an easy laugh, glad to divert the conversation from herself, and thanking her, as quickly as is possible. "Still trying to blackmail you for the Hanged Man?"

"Yes," Aveline groans, frowning down at her desk with an amused snort of disbelief. "I can't imagine why he wants the bloody thing so badly. I'm half-convinced there's secret treasure stored under the foundations. Or contraband."

"He probably _does_ have contraband lining the walls," Hawke agrees cheerfully.

With a shrug, the Guard-Captain effortlessly dismisses the concerns of whether Varric's interest in the Hanged Man is personal or professional. "Anyway. I just-- I wanted to thank you. For everything." She looks up, and her face is so kind and honest and true. She looks _happy._ "For being such a true friend."

And now, Hawke's throat is dry, and every time she's tried to tell Aveline her own feelings digs under her skin, painful reminders of her personal failure at communication. It's easy when she's solving someone else's problem. She's defending _their_ honor, or holding _their_ hand. But who's there to defend her against herself?

She can tell her face has fallen and laughs, trying to defuse the situation before it can escalate, as Aveline stands from her desk and comes to Hawke's side, making soft, gentle sounds of comfort, grabbing her by the shoulders. Maker, but she's tall. Just tall enough to kiss, from where Hawke's standing, and not have to tip her head up too much. "Hawke, what's wrong?" Aveline is asking, a worried smile on her lips. "Are you hurt?"

"Ha!" What an old song and dance this is. She tried playing with Isabela and they ended up having nearly the same conversation. Of course, when Isabela's involved with anything, her advice is _just go for it._ Time and again, she'd insisted Aveline would be receptive, provided Hawke just made a damned move. "No."

Maybe she would have.

Maybe Hawke wasn't sure Aveline could recognize a move if it smacked her in the face.

"Well, what is it, then?" Aveline asks, puzzled frown drawing her brow tight. Hawke is lost in those lovely green eyes. Aveline is so earthy and so ethereal all at once. She smells like wheat and fresh-turned soil and acrid leather and steel. She's touching Hawke's shoulders, trying to reassure her.

So Hawke tries smacking her in the face. With her lips. And it doesn't go well, but at least it finally gets the point across. Loudly.

"--oh, Hawke," Aveline murmurs, pity in her voice that makes Hawke laugh bitterly, stepping away. "Oh, Maker. I'm so sorry."

"You shouldn't be sorry for being _happy_ ," Hawke answers lightly, even as Aveline growls in frustration, pacing away from her.

She'd only meant to step inside, say good luck, dart away. There would be wedding plans later, wedding plans she had to grit her teeth through, staring at Aveline wondering what it would have been like if they'd never stopped running through the mountains. If it'd been her, and Bethany and Aveline and Mother, just all this time. Her plan has certainly failed spectacularly.

Aveline catches Hawke's arm, suddenly, and pulls her close, incredibly gentle. Is that regret, in her eyes? Or is Hawke just a lovesick fool? "I'm sorry for being _dense_ , is what I'm sorry for. You-- all those bloody compliments, you really--"

"Just," she wriggles free of Aveline's grip, unable to meet the Guard Captain's gaze. "Don't worry about it, Aveline. I-- I know you'll be happier with Donnic. And I really am happy for you. For _both_ of you."

She has a rather impressive speech all planned out about how she's fine with making sacrifices, but Aveline catches her chin and tips up her face and kisses her like she really _means it_ this time.

Kissing was never Hawke's favorite. She likes long, clinging embraces, strength of arms around the body, holding what you love close, being held. She likes kissing the cheek or nibbling the ear. She's no good at kissing.

But Aveline is.

Aveline is a warrior, and her tongue is a blade, and Hawke's mouth falls open before her and Maker, Aveline pulls her close, holds her _tight_ , closes her eyes while Hawke is still actually staring a moment, stunned, confused, worried that this is pity. It's not. It's-- ardent and-- everything she could ever have dreamed, maybe more.

Then they break apart, and Aveline kisses away her tears, stroking her face fondly.

"This chevalier," whispers the Guard-Captain, "is very grateful to have been in your service, mademoiselle. I'm sorry I can't return your affections."

Hawke is surprised to feel herself _blushing_ , oddly giddy at the sound of Aveline of all people using Orlesian words without a hint of Ferelden accent on them. "I know."

"Come on, then," Aveline says, a bit more her normal self, and keeps one hand on Hawke's shoulder, as much to keep her from running off as anything. "Have a sit and let's talk about all sorts of silly things until your face isn't red anymore. Can't have people talking about the Champion crying like a little girl. What would your _Uncle_ say?"

At that, Hawke actually finds it in her to laugh, and feels some old strain of loss ease. She takes Aveline up on her offer, sitting down and chatting at length about whatever comes to mind. They make plans for the wedding, and more importantly, for what Aveline will do about Varric's attempts to snoop in on the affairs of consummation and suchlike afterwards. Hawke can set this old feeling of heartache aside.

And Aveline is still her Guard Captain, even if she's really Donnic's knight in shining armor.


End file.
